


Detour

by Kohaku1977



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M, drunk!Lindsey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kohaku1977/pseuds/Kohaku1977
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Angel?” His voice is rough from sleep and whiskey and oh fuck, Angel tries to remember how to muster the anger he had felt earlier when he had taken the car to Lindsey's office to demand files for their latest case. He can't even remember what that case was about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detour

**Author's Note:**

> For silme711 who prompted me with drunk!Lindsey, in a bar, falling asleep. Which turned out to be such a fun prompt!

He finds him at a bar he only enters because he is getting desperate. When he pushes his way through the after work crowd towards the bartender, Angel sees Lindsey on one of the bar stools to the right, the one tugged in the corner. Angel straightens his shoulders as he walks up to him, but when he gets closer, he notices the slump of Lindsey's shoulders, the way his head rests heavily on one hand, the almost empty glass in front of him. Lindsey is half asleep already, eyes closed and breathing evening out, and Angel stands there, silent. This was not going as expected.  
He clears his throat. Calls his name. Lindsey only opens his eyes when Angel shakes him.

“Angel?” His voice is rough from sleep and whiskey and oh fuck, Angel tries to remember how to muster the anger he had felt earlier when he had taken the car to Lindsey's office to demand files for their latest case. He can't even remember what that case was about.

“Let's go,” he says and pulls Lindsey from his stool.  
“Hey,” Lindsey says, “Get off of me. Pushy bastard.”

Angel stops.

“What?”  
“You heard me. Fucking pushy vampire.”  
“Can you quiet down?”  
“Oh, and wouldn't you like that?”  
“As a matter of fact, I would.”  
“So you'd like me compliant, mmm?”  
“Yeah... no, wait, what?”

He stares at Lindsey, who sways a little and then pokes a finger in Angel's direction.

“You...” he says.

Angel grabs Lindsey's sleeve and pulls. Lindsey stumbles forward, and right into Angel, who takes him by the arm and turns to leave.

“Hey. Big guy,” the barkeeper says. “You ain't leaving before picking up the tab.”

Angel turns and stares. He pats Lindsey's jacket at the front, the trousers at the back.

“Oooh,” Lindsey grins, “That's harassment.” Angel rolls his eyes, pulls out his own wallet. He grumbles at the price the bartender holds up on a piece of paper and pays.

“What did he have? The whole fucking bar?”  
“Just about,” the barkeeper grins.

They almost make it to the car when Lindsey starts to lean more heavily against Angel. Angel drags him the last bit, and leans him against the car while he fumbles with the passenger door.

“Get in.”  
“Where're we going?”  
“Your office.”  
“No.”  
“No?”  
“No.”

Angel takes a deep, unnecessary breath.

“Get in.”

Lindsey cocks his head a little and looks at him from under his lashes.

“We could go somewhere more fun.”

Angel stares at him and then grabs him by the collar and stuffs him into the car.

“You did not just... you did not say that.”  
“I won't go to the office. Why do you think I was at the fucking bar in the first place?”

Lindsey hiccups and Angel rolls his eyes and gets into the driver's seat.

“What's your idea of fun anyway,” he mutters under his breath. Lindsey grins.

 

At the office building, Lindsey makes Angel pull into the lane for the underground parking lot because he does not want to walk in through the front doors and explain to the security on duty why he is coming back. Angel figures it's because Lindsey looks like a mess right now, tie askew and jacket crumpled. So he probably wants to keep a low profile, Angel thinks as he pulls over at the closed gate. Lindsey gives a small whoop and then leans over Angel's lap and halfway out of the car's window to punch in his key code to open the gate.

“What are you doing,” Angel asks.  
“Opening the door, what does it look like?”

Angel feels a bit better after the glare that Lindsey shoots him, because that he can handle. But a lapful of Lindsey? Lindsey sits up again in the passenger seat, brushing at the front of his suit and straightening his tie before leaning over to Angel again.

“Over there,” he breathes into Angel's ear and points, “Third on the left.”

Angel cuts one corner with the back left wheel, and Lindsey makes an undignified noise at the bump. One that almost sounds like a giggle, and Angel is so not going there.

“Why are we here,” Lindsey whines after they park but makes no attempt to leave the car.

“Because you are going to show me some files and let me take them with me.”  
“Am I?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Oh.”  
“So?”  
“So what?”  
“Get out of the car.”  
“No need to get all pushy again,” Lindsey growls and gets out.

He clings to Angel on their way to his office and Angel lets him. It gets worse in the elevator though, as Lindsey leans against him and looks as if he is about to nod off.

“Hey, don't do that.”  
“Do what?”  
“Falling asleep on me.”

Lindsey smirks.

“Oh, come on, not that way.”  
“Do you want coffee? I could use some coffee.”  
“Lindsey.”  
“It's just, the kitchen is just there, we can walk by.”

There has to be some sort of security around, so Angel should say no. Lindsey looks at him expectantly, with a small absent-minded smile.

“Ok,” Angel says as soon as he opens his mouth.

It was going to be much harder than if he had just broken in to get those damn files.

Lindsey gets them coffees in two identical white ceramic mugs that are only short of the corporate logo to look more official, and Angel is a bit disappointed about that. They are just plain white and the coffee is normal too, and there is sugar and cream coming in those little packages. Lindsey even makes a move to hand him some, but he waves off.

“I drink it black,” he says and Lindsey makes a face as if he should have known that.

Lindsey looks at the cream and shrugs.

“I drink it black too.”

“I figured you'd be the moccachino frappucino froo froo type,” Angel says.

Lindsey glares at him.

“You know, with the nice suits and the little strut you have going and...” Shut up.

“Strut?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I don't strut.”

Angel takes a quick sip from his mug.

“Never got the fuss about all the sugar. Messes with the flavor,” Lindsey says matter of factly, making it sound like Angel should know this.

There suddenly is more than the hint of an accent, a slight drawl, and Lindsey grins again.

“Let's go to my office,” he says and leads on.

 

And this is almost nice, it's so normal and civilised, so when Lindsey stops at his door, Angel reaches over and touches the side of Lindsey's neck. Lindsey stills and looks at Angel.

“Behave,” he says.  
“What,” Angel says, “I didn't... I didn't do anything.”  
“Yeah, right.”

“Lindsey, the files.”

Lindsey sighs a little, unlocks his door and lets them in. He walks straight over to the windows, looking out, his back towards Angel. Angel follows him a few steps into the room, then turns and closes the door.

“Are the cameras on?”  
“What?”

Lindsey turns and Angel can't read his expression, it is so different from what he knows.

“Uh,” Angels says. He watches Lindsey take a sip of coffee and then swallow. “The security cameras. Are they on? Is that why you didn't turn on the light?”

“No, they're off.” Lindsey laughs quietly, before adding: ”I have them off most of the time.”

It takes a moment, but then Lindsey's mouth forms an o as it dawns on him that he should probably not have said that. Angel shrugs and grins.  
“I just... like the view at night,” Lindsey then says and turns back to the window. He sounds much more sober now and a little apologetic.

“The files?”  
“That's all you want, isn't it?” Lindsey asks sharply.

“Uh,” Angel says. He places his mug on Lindsey's desk and takes a few steps towards him. “What is this about, Lindsey?”

“Nothing,” Lindsey spits and turns again, eyes narrowed. “I'm just...”

He breaks off and looks towards the door.

“What? You're what? Kinda cute when you're pouting?”  
“What? No.”  
“Because you are.”  
“Can you shut up for a minute?” Lindsey growls.

He walks towards the door, opens it an inch and peeks out.

“Oh, shit. Shit.”  
“What?”  
“Hide, quick!”  
“What?”

Lindsey stares at him as if he was stupid and then grabs his arm and yanks. He pulls him over to the desk and then down.

“Get under there. Quick! And shut up, alright?”

Angel crouches down, pulls up his legs and squeezes under the table. He watches Lindsey (more like Lindsey's legs and, hey, they're kinda nice) walk away and hears a drawer being pulled open the same time the door opens.

“Mr McDonald? Oh, you're in. Everything alright?”  
“Yes. Working late. Frank, is it?”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“Everything's fine, Frank.”

Lindsey sounds awfully annoyed at that, and the door clicks shut quietly. Angel somehow does not move until Lindsey looks under the desk, kneeling down next to him and grinning. Angel takes the offered arm and lets Lindsey pull him up. Lindsey staggers a bit and bumps into Angel and there is the giggle again, this time a little more breathless. Lindsey looks up at him and the grin reaches his eyes and somehow Angel takes too long to push himself away, so when he finally says something, he sounds a little breathless too.

“Thanks.”  
“Ooh, the big scary vampire is actually thanking me?”

Angel rolls his eyes.

“Lindsey.”  
“Yeah, I know. The files. Always the damn files.”

Lindsey moves towards the cabinet again, pulls open the middle drawer and leans slightly forward to browse through the folders. Angel steps up behind him, looking at the way his hair curls at his neck. He reaches out to see whether it is as soft as it looks and Lindsey jumps and hits his head at the cabinet. He gives a muffled mewl and turns around to look at Angel accusingly.

“What was that for?”  
Angel reaches out and touches Lindsey's head without thinking, placing his hand roughly where Lindsey had bumped against the furniture.

“I'm sorry,” Angel says, “I didn't mean to... I just... Sorry.”

“Drive me home?” Lindsey asks.

It's the way Lindsey looks up at him, Angel thinks. With those eyes, and the suit is still ruffled. He doesn't answer right away and Lindsey pushes several folders into his hands with a small huff.

“Just take them and leave then.”  
“Wait, what? How do you even know which ones I want?”

Lindsey gives him a look that is unmistakeable.

“Now go,” Lindsey says.

Angel flips through the folders, and they are exactly the ones he came to get. He sighs.

“Go, please,” Lindsey says quietly, and it comes out like a plea.

Angel knows he shouldn't and he knows that it's because of that tiny breathless giggle and maybe because of how Lindsey had looked when he had attempted to stuff Angel under the desk.

“And how would you get home then,” Angel asks.

Lindsey does not look at him, just makes a dismissive sound.

“Come on, let's get you home.”

All the way back to the parking lot, Angel rests his hand in the small of Lindsey's back and Lindsey leans back just so. It's just a tiny detour anyway, Angel thinks when he leads Lindsey to the car. He will probably even enjoy the ride.


End file.
